


The Best Argument for Eating Cupcakes for Dinner

by AimeePiggy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: :), M/M, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AimeePiggy/pseuds/AimeePiggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Steeb, Steeb, listen, lookit, listen to me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Argument for Eating Cupcakes for Dinner

“Look, listen to me, listen to me,” Peter, a little over three years old, said, moving his arms up and down as he tried to explain to Steve for the near /millionth/ time why he had asked Uncle Clint for a cupcake, after Steve had told him no. 

“Like, I do ‘dis all 'de time and 'den I go and play with my toys and 'den it’s okay,” Peter said, trying to lessen his punishment. 

“Okay, but I have to yell at you–” Steve was cut of as Peter started to talk again, his hands on his hips. 

“No, Steeb, Steeb, listen, listen, listen,” Peter said as he made motions with his hands to tell Steve to calm down. 

“Okay, what?” Steve sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face as he looked at their son, crossing his arms over his chest as Tony just managed to walk into the room. 

“Like, everything 'dey do at this house, you can do everything at Uncle Clint’s house,” The boy tried. 

“Okay?” Steve asked, not understanding how that was making any sense. 

“Okay 'den what?” Peter replied, holding his hands up by his head. 

“Then you’re not listening to me.” Steve huffed. 

“ 'Den you’re not listening to /me/.”

“I asked you not to do something–” Steve nearly groaned as Peter cut him off again. 

“But Steeb, listen, listen to me, lookit, if I do something–If you get 'dat out – 'Dat blue 'ding off, 'dey’re gonna break it,” Peter said, obviously trying to chance the subject. 

“Okay, but I’m asking–I’m letting you know–” And Peter was starting to get ready to go again. “That /you/ cannot–” Steve was speaking over Peter’s cries of 'Steeb, listen, listen’. “You’re not listening to me! Listen to /me/ now." 

"But lookit, lookit, listen to me–Listen to me now.” Peter droned on. 

“No. I said no cupcakes, and you tried to get cupcakes anyways and you tried to ask Uncle Clint. Didn’t you?" 

"Steeb, lookit, listen. If we do something–If we get cupcakes, then we can’t even get them. You’re gonna burn you’re butt.” Peter murmured, trying to get his point across.

“What’s going to burn you’re butt?” Steve asked, before shaking his head and just talking on. “You and Daddy don’t listen!” He exclaimed, ignoring the shocked gasp from Tony. “So, I have to give both of you guys pow-pows on your butt.”

“But Steeb! But Aunt Tasha’s gonna give me pow-pows in the butt.” Peter said, and Steve /knew/ for a fact that that wasn’t true. 

“No, she’s not." 

"Yeah.”

“No. You don’t want me to spank Daddy or you don’t want me to spank you?” Steve sighed. This was getting tiring. 

“No.” Peter muttered. 

“Why?" 

"Because I don’t want anyone to spank me.” Peter whined. 

“Then I’ll have to spank Daddy!” Steve groaned.

“But he’s my Daddy!” Peter whined, pouting. 

“He’s your Daddy, but he doesn’t listen.” Steve muttered, ignoring the half-muffled giggling from said man. 

“But, Steeb, listen, honey, honey, lookit, look at 'dis. Right now, you can’t do anything if you can’t get anything out of 'de car.” Peter argued. “You’re gonna have to break everything down." 

"I’m not breaking anything down. I’m just letting you know that–”

“Steeb–”

“That you cannot have cupcakes for dinner.” Steve said, getting louder than Peter easily. 

“Steeb, Steeb, like, this 'ding never belonged to you and you can’t get anything and anything,” Peter said, and he demonstrated his crazy words by opening the lowest cabinets, and then shutting them. 

“I’m done arguing with you.” Steve decided, sighing as he turned around, glaring at Tony, because if Peter learned this from anybody, it was Tony. 

“I’m done arguing with you.” Peter mimicked, putting his hands on his hips again. 

“You need to listen to the things that I say because I’m the Papa and I’m the adult.” Steve replied. 

“Steeb, Steeb, listen, lookit, listen to me. All 'de time, lookit, this 'ding,” Peter announced, as he walked past Steve and over to the dining table, pulling on the table cloth experimentally. “ 'Dis… 'Dis /'ding/… And you can’t–” The rest of what the three year old said was a garbled mess. 

“I’m done arguing with you.” Steve had said this at least three times that day. 

“Steeb, Steeb, I’m done arguing with /you/.” Peter said, shaking his head, his hands on his hips once more. 

Steve scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand, before walking out of the room. He couldn’t help the smile that came on his face when Tony started to giggle and so did Peter.


End file.
